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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24282460">[the Airs of London change...]</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamsolarflare/pseuds/iamsolarflare'>iamsolarflare</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>it's a Fallen London/Minecraft Youtube au [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fallen London | Echo Bazaar, Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(specifically there's a single dead bird), Gen, implied harm to animals, wow look at that i'm hinting at ~another character~</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:28:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>673</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24282460</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamsolarflare/pseuds/iamsolarflare</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ross strikes another bargain.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>None</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>it's a Fallen London/Minecraft Youtube au [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717144</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>[the Airs of London change...]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>everyone in this au has Fancy London Names so i'm just gonna. have this little disclaimer at the top of every fic.</p><p>characters appearing: Ross "Notjack" Squire (yourpalross) and Ed (name unchanged).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tonight is, more so than usual, an ill-tempered night. A strange false wind howls across the streets and hanging places of the Neath, storming and calling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sarc's corpse is leaned up against one wall of the abandoned, half-rotting house. He's gone to the river again, and this time seems to have very little to show for it apart from several shards of mirror-glass embedded in one hand. He's going to take a little while to wake up. Ross drags him up against the wall, out of sight from every window, then closes the window behind him and slips out into the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hasn't run the rooftops in a while. Certainly not since becoming Jack-of-Smiles. But right now, he is stormy-eyed and the pulses of violant are temporarily quelled. This is a side mission, but it will further goals they share nonetheless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clambers up onto the roof, balancing easily, and dashes off into the Neath-night like a dart. Here, the wind blows harder than ever. Here, ravens cannot fly and cats cannot climb. Ross practically skates along housetops, moving ever more rapidly to his destination.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilmot's End has no wells. Wilmot's End, the part of it that just barely borders the Flit, is where he's going, and then it's where he is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's a man here. Black-haired and gaunt and pale, staring coldly at Ross through cosmogone spectacles.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>KILL HIM</span>
  </em>
  <span>, comes the altogether expected pulse in his mind. Ross ignores the impulse to lunge. This is not a fight he can win.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mister Squire." The Glassman nods curtly. "I can't say I expected your arrival in a manner like this."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ross shrugs and stares at the ceiling of the Neath behind the man's head, not quite meeting his eyes (or the glint of his glasses, for that matter). He rummages in his pocket and pulls out a feathery corpse, tosses it to the ground in front of the Glassman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man looks down at it. Nudges it with his toe. "A Witch-Raven. Dear me. You're attracting the attention of someone very odd." He readjusts his glasses and moves his gaze just slightly, locking eyes with Ross.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ross stares back. Violant pulses meet a calm, steady cosmogone flow. Neither color wins out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"After my roommate, actually," Ross says. "Doesn't know I exist yet. Keep it that way?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You called me here," the Glassman muses, "to keep an old prisoner of the wells from finding a Seeker. What an absurd situation." His smile turns sharp and cold and scheming, more reserved than the expression Sarc usually wears. "And you're offering in return?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ross squints at him. "I know a secret the Masters want to keep."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You'll have to elaborate."</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? KILL HIM. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ross draws the knife and flips it in his hand, holding it loosely by the flat part of the blade, narrowly avoiding the small piece of Correspondence carved into the blade near the hilt. He offers the handle of the strange kitchen-knife to the Glassman,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>who bursts out laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fantastic. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fantastic!</span>
  </em>
  <span> I already knew, of course, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> an excellent offering regardless. You are someone strange indeed."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Glassman - no, Ross thinks, most people say he's the Cunning Butcher - adjusts his collar with one hand and his glasses with the other. "I'll see what I can do about your little </span>
  <em>
    <span>corvidae</span>
  </em>
  <span> problem, Mister Squire."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ross flips the knife back around, balancing it more comfortably in his hand, and takes a breath in as he turns to leave. He has one last secret, but he's not sure if startling the Butcher will scare him off the case or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Violant tides against the back of his mind. A little more of an impression couldn't hurt. He stands with his back to the roof of the next building and internally slips back into an old, childish dialect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"See yous around, guv!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Glassman whirls around, startled by the sudden slip into Flit dialect - </span>
  <em>
    <span>urchin</span>
  </em>
  <span> dialect - but Ross is already gone, across the roofs of London again, false wind at his back.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the "old prisoner of the wells" is not, in fact, Mr. Eaten. there's someone from the Elder Continent that was put down there first. they're not happy about it. this is foreshadowing</p></blockquote></div></div>
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